


Culina Submersa

by fourthage



Series: Kitchen Sink [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Post ME3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourthage/pseuds/fourthage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is two years after the war.  Shepard and Garrus are still searching for what comes next when they are sent to investigate a rogue human colony on the edge of the galaxy.  But the Council has not been honest, and more than one old enemy is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

New Citadel was a bit of a misnomer.  No one had any illusions that it was an adequate replacement for the original, but the ad hoc space station hastily cobbled together from ships too damaged to make FTL jumps had to be called something, and since a number of species' representatives had congregated there in the aftermath of the war, the name stuck.  The Keepers had survived the Reapers' purge, so the original was expected to eventually be liveable again.  Opinions on returning to what was the galaxy's largest known mass grave varied from the pragmatic to the horrified.  
  
Shepard and Garrus took up residence in part of a converted Alliance frigate after she was released from the hospital and cleared for space flight.  It wasn't much: a small bedroom with an even smaller bathroom, and a living area barely big enough for a couch, with a counter along one wall to hold the few appliances that constituted their kitchen.  But it gave them more privacy than they would have had on Earth, kept Garrus in easy contact with the Hierarchy, and, most importantly, gave them space to think about what to do with a future neither of them had really thought they'd have.  
  
It was a question that still hung between them.  The only thing they'd been in agreement on was that yes, they'd both been serious about wanting kids, and no, they didn't want to tempt fate by waiting.  Garrus had been joking when he suggested seeing if Miranda could figure out a way to cheat biology the way she helped Shepard cheat death, but the woman surprised him with her promise to look into it.  Four months later, Miranda had contacted them and launched into a highly technical explanation about Shepard's implants and the asari method of randomizing DNA.  She lost him early on, but he got the important part: having sex with him could get Shepard pregnant with a human child.  Miranda cautioned them that it was only theoretically possible, and had a very small chance of success.  Garrus didn't care.  It was worth trying.  
  
They hadn't had much of a chance yet, just a few weeks before a call to Palaven that he couldn't refuse, followed shortly after by an invitation from Wrex to see how the rebuilding on Tuchanka was going.  Shepard had lit up at the prospect of seeing him and Bakara again, and that trip took another few weeks.  Garrus had to admit the progress the krogan were making on restoring their planet was impressive, as were Wrex's efforts to single-handedly repopulate it.    
  
They were making their way back home now on a civilian transport.  It was slow going.  Only half of the relay system was restored, and their ship had been delayed twice in the jump queue to allow military ships to pass through.   When they finally arrived back in the Sol system, Garrus reluctantly turned his attention to his neglected inbox.  He had a few messages from his father and sister that he'd deal with later, a follow-up from Victus about the Palaven trip, a chatty letter from Tali about the irrigation system she was working on that ended with the vaguely threatening question of why Wrex got a visit before she did, and the usual haul of fan mail and interview requests.  And then there was the message marked urgent, from the turian councilor.  
  
It was an offer to join the Spectres.  
  
Garrus scanned the message again, and when he reached the end, scrolled back up to the top a third time, because he still wasn't sure he was reading it right.  Phrases like _urgent need_ and _refilling ranks_ jumped out at him.  In other words, he hadn't been on the shortlist, but the Council was getting desperate.  The war had left a lot of political vacuums, and no one wanted to be left holding less than what they'd had before.  
  
A Spectre.  Him.  
  
Garrus gave a short laugh before he could help himself, then glanced at Shepard.  She was dozing against his side, having decided that one more day of ignoring her inbox wasn't going to hurt.  They'd both gone incommunicado while visiting Tuchanka, and it would take her most of a day to go through her accumulated messages.  At least most of them had to do with consultations and endorsements these days, rather than missions where people shot at her (well, at _them_ , since he'd been right there with her most of the time).  Retiring as a galactic hero did have its perks.  
  
The Council wanted his answer as soon as he got back.  Garrus checked the time.  Their small transport ship was still a couple hours out from New Citadel.  Shepard would probably sleep the whole way in.  He shrugged the shoulder she was leaning on, and she stirred.  
  
“Hey,” he said, as she yawned and blinked up at him.  “Need your opinion.”  
  
She read the Council's message, then read it again, frowning.  “I didn't realize things were that bad.”  
  
“Thanks.”  Garrus flicked a mandible at her, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
“That's not what I meant.  You're more than qualified.”  Shepard set the datapad on her knee.  “Are you going to accept?”  
  
“I don't know.”  
  
“Do you want to?”  
  
“Do you want me to?”  
  
Shepard fiddled with the datapad.  “If you want it, you should do it.”  She started to say something else, then stopped, pressing her lips together like the words would escape otherwise.  She'd been doing that a lot lately.  Garrus almost asked what was wrong, but she'd already promised to tell him when they got back.  
  
Instead, he asked, “You thought anymore about Hackett's offer?”  
  
She sighed.  “Being an N7 graduate doesn't mean I'd be a good instructor for the program.”  Unspoken was the fact that she hadn't picked up a gun since the end of the war.  “And it's not much of a retirement if I keep hanging around the military.”  
  
“Want me to start looking for that place in the tropics?”  Shepard didn't respond.  Her hair fell over her eyes, and Garrus brushed it back, careful not to catch his talon on her scars.  “Hey,” he said softly.  “Do you?”  
  
She made a noncommittal sound and shrugged.  “One thing at a time.  You haven't said if you want the Spectre position.”    
  
“Yes, I did.”  
  
“You said you didn't know.”  Shepard caught his smirk.  “Smart-ass.”  
  
“You love it.”  He drew her closer and nuzzled her hair before growing serious.  “It's a big decision.  I don't like that the Council isn't giving me time to think about it.”  It surprised him that he needed to, but his priorities had changed.  He wanted a family with Shepard, and a family needed stability, not a parent who could get sent to the other end of the galaxy at a moment's notice.  But he was tempted.  They could make it work.  He just wished Shepard would give him some indication of what she preferred.  
  
“Well, you've got a couple hours till we dock.”  Shepard settled herself against his shoulder again.  “Think on it.”  
  
He did, but by the time the captain announced their arrival at the space station, he was no closer to a decision.  Maybe he could pretend he wasn't here yet.  It wasn't like New Citadel had the biometric security measures of the original.  He let himself believe that all the way to their apartment.  Shepard dropped her bag by the door and went to check on her hamster.  The fuzzy creature was nearing the end of his lifespan, and she'd worried the whole trip that he'd die while she was gone.  Garrus took their bags into the bedroom and his omnitool flashed.  
  
After due consideration, he set it to ignore.  
  
He went back into the living area, and found Shepard fiddling with the coffeemaker.  Her lips were moving soundlessly, like she was rehearsing a briefing.  She tried to smile when she saw him, but didn't manage more than a slight lift at the corners of her mouth.  Oh.  
  
Garrus reached out to her, but she shook her head.  He let his hand fall.  “Time for that talk?” he asked.  
  
“Don't you have a Council to report to?”  
  
“They can wait.”  
  
“Right.”  Shepard drew herself up and put her shoulders back.  Garrus sat, in hopes that it would make whatever she had to say easier.  “Right,” she repeated.  “When you were away on Palaven -”  
  
Garrus's omnitool flashed again, his silence code overridden.    
  
“Ignore it,” he said.  
  
“When you were gone, I -” she started again.  
  
The doorbell chimed.  They looked at each other.  It rang again, and Garrus stood to tell whoever was on the other side to go away.  
  
The young human on the doorstep wore a C-Sec uniform.  “Garrus Vakarian?  I'm here to escort you to the Council.”  
  
Shepard gave a resigned sort of laugh behind Garrus, and the officer's eyes widened as he caught sight of her.  A new recruit.  Garrus moved to block his view before he could start babbling.  She hated that.  _At least with Saren I could remember what everyone was thanking me for_ , she'd confessed at the hospital.  
  
“Go on,” Shepard said, when Garrus hesitated.  “Not like I'm going anywhere.”  
  
It was a short shuttle ride to the other other side of the station.  Garrus spent most of it worrying over what little Shepard had gotten out.  He never meant to be on Palaven as long as he had.  Most of their communication had been by text, but she'd seemed normal in the few vidlinks they'd managed, if a little subdued near the end.  He thought she was just missing him the way he was her.  It wasn't till his return that he'd started wondering if something else was going on.  
  
“Sir?”    
  
The officer was standing by the open shuttle door with a worried look.  Garrus shook himself out his thoughts and let himself be escorted to the Council chamber.  
  
The new version was less impressive than the old, converted as it was from the CIC of an asari dreadnought.  Garrus suspected it had been picked for its dais, which kept the Council elevated above the rest of the room.  The councilors were mid-argument when he walked in.  
  
“Our focus should be on restoring existing settlements, not the establishment of new ones.”  
  
“Convenient.  Resources go to those with the most colonized worlds, even if they barely have a population worth supplying left.”  
  
“The krogan are a recognized Council race, Tevos.”  
  
“And they have not yet reached the limit of their homeworld.”  
  
“Thank you for joining us, Vakarian.”  Sparatus's voice cut across his fellow Council members, and they stopped.  That was interesting.  The asari usually were usually in the middle of any Council consensus, but Tevos had been alone against the others.   She looked frustrated as Sparatus continued.  “Your first assignment -”  
  
“I'd like more time to think about it,” Garrus interrupted.  Sparatus's mouth closed with an audible click.  The new human councilor's eyes crinkled at the corners.  Vera Rubein had been a mid-level politician before the war.  During it, she'd coordinated the evacuation of non-combatants from Budapest after its indoctrinated leaders announced forced relocations “for the safety of the populace,” and went on to oversee resistance supply lines for half the continent.  She fought just as hard for the Council position afterward, and had been the one to propose keeping the Council in Earth's orbit until the Citadel was repaired. She was wildly popular among humans, less so among the other races.  
  
“This needs dealt with now,” Sparatus said.  “We don't have time to wait for you to make a decision.”  
  
“Then no,” Garrus said.  “Ask your next candidate.”  
  
“Sparatus,” Tevos said.  “This was your idea.”  
  
“This assignment would benefit from your expertise and connections,” Vera broke in.  “Would you be willing to take it as a trial, with no obligation become a full Spectre at its end?”  
  
Now he was curious.  “What kind of assignment is this?  And what connections?”  
  
The councilors exchanged glances.  
  
“Primarily information gathering,” Valern said.  “Habitable world on shortlist for krogan, but there are rumors that an unauthorized human settlement was established shortly after the war.  We need you to confirm the rumors and see if they are open to resettlement elsewhere.”  Another exchange of glances.  “Your wife would be useful in obtaining positive reception.”  
  
“That's why you want me?”  Garrus's mandibles pulled tight against his face.  “No.”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous,” Sparatus said.  “This is about what's best for the galactic community, not your pride.”  
  
Garrus barely kept his temper.  “If Shepard wanted to do your dirty work, she wouldn't have retired.  You aren't using me to drag her back in.”  
  
“Shepard would be a welcome addition, but we will not insist upon her accompanying you,” Tevos said.  She looked like she'd just won an argument.  “We have every confidence in your ability to complete this mission alone.”  
  
“No one wants the krogan to feel they are being treated unfairly,” Vera said.  “Addressing this before their need for a colony world becomes urgent shows good faith.  The galaxy can ill afford another conflict.”  
  
Garrus wondered if this was how Shepard had felt.  He could say no, but they were right.  Wrex and Bakara were managing the krogan's population growth, but it wouldn't be long before they came knocking at the Council's door.  He didn't want Shepard to have to get mixed up in Council business again, but he didn't want to leave her again either.  
  
“Only on a trial basis,” he said.  He hoped she'd forgive him.  
  
“Excellent,” Sparatus said.  “Your ship will depart tomorrow.  The full briefing and funds will be waiting for you there.”  
  
Dismissed, Garrus took a moment outside the chamber to collect himself.  His pride _was_ stung.  At least it was true that his past experience would be useful.  This was investigative work, and they hadn't said he had to convince any settlers to move, just to broach the subject with them.  Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Council was worried about more than a stray human colony.  He went over the meeting again, re-playing the councilors' words and expressions in his mind to see if he could work it out.  
  
He stopped on the way back at a place that served levo and dextro meat wraps.  The shop was based out of an observation deck that faced Earth, making it one of the more popular restaurants on New Citadel.  Garrus ordered wraps for himself and Shepard and left just as it started to fill up with the dinner crowd.  He was so busy thinking over the Council meeting that he forgot about the interrupted conversation with Shepard until he was in their apartment again.  She smiled when she smelled the meat wraps, and he decided to wait before bringing it up.  They folded down the little table next to the counter and she listened while he told her about his agreement with the Council between bites.  
  
“Sounds like there's a power struggle going on in the Council,” she said when he finished.  
  
“What do you know about Councilor Rubein?”  
  
“Just what's been on the news.  And she's the one who set this place up for us.  I wondered if it came with strings attached.”  She crumpled the wrap's container distractedly and stood.  A cup came down from the cupboard and Garrus watched her try and fail to make coffee.  The heating mechanism kept shutting off halfway through.  
  
“We going to finish that conversation?” he asked on her fourth try.  
  
She balanced the cup in the crook of her elbow and lifted the top of the machine.  “The coffeemaker isn't working right.”  
  
“Shepard.”  
  
The lid went down, and the cup hit the counter.  She stared into it for a long moment before turning around.  
  
“I had a miscarriage.”  
  
The air left the room.  Whatever he thought she might say, that wasn't it.  “You were pregnant?” he managed after a few tries.  She nodded.  He stared at her, at a loss.  “You never said.”  
  
She looked away and folded her arms around her middle.  He wanted to hold her, but didn't know if she would welcome it.  “You'd already been gone a week before I knew.”    
  
He'd done research when they started this.  Some of it, bloody and described in clinically horrifying detail, surfaced.  “Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed.  
  
Her eyes were red when she looked back at him.  
  
“No.”  
  
He took a half-step towards her, and she came into his arms.  He'd never felt so helpless.  “I mean,” he said as she shook silently, “physically.  I know you're not – I didn't mean it that way.  Was I hurting you, after?”  He'd never forgive himself if he had, if he hadn't noticed that he was.  It was a relief when she shook her head.  “You were really pregnant?” he repeated, in wonder.  
  
“It was going to be a welcome home present.”  She took a deep, shuddering breath.  
  
He stroked her hair, and for a moment saw Shepard with a little redheaded child peeking over her shoulder.  It hurt.  “Do you know what it was?”  he asked.  
  
She shook her head again.  “Too early.  And I wouldn't have wanted to find out without you.”  He pressed his forehead against the crown of her head, imagining hearing the news in a doctor's office.  They'd come home and argue over names and new, bigger places to live, and he'd kiss her in the middle, too happy to disagree seriously, and she'd push him down and they wouldn't have separated again till the morning.  He held her tighter and mourned for what could have been.    
  
“I want to go with you,” she said sometime later, curled around him on the couch.  
  
“I'm glad,” he said.  “I missed you on Palaven.”  
  
“I want to try again, too.  Just, not right away.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She was quiet for a minute.  “And I want a pet varren.”  
  
Garrus laughed harder than the joke warranted.  “You should have asked Wrex when we were on Tuchanka,” he said.  
  
“He guessed.  About this.”  
  
“Is that why he nearly broke my hand when we left?”  
  
“Probably.”  She kissed his mandible and curled into him closer, eyes closing.  He debated moving them to the bed, but the couch wasn't that uncomfortable, and they'd have plenty of time to rest on their way to the colony.  He tucked her head under his and slept.

* * *

  
Their ship was a decommisioned Alliance freighter, captained by a cheerful man with a long brown fringe, and crewed by his extended family.  After introducing himself as William Pugh and telling them what an honor it was to have them aboard, he showed them to their cabin and told them to just yell if they needed anything.  “Intercom is a bit fickle, but she's not a big ship.  There's always somebody in earshot.”  And with that bit of advice, he left.  
  
“Well, it'll be an interesting flight.”  Shepard stretched and grimaced.  
  
“Stiff again?”  
  
“Yeah.”  She gave a sigh and dropped to the floor to start the exercises to keep her limber.  Garrus watched for a few minutes, before turning to the infopacket for the mission.  The first screen was a rundown on their destination.  
  
“Those bastards,” Garrus said softly.  Shepard looked up from the floor, and he held out the datapad so she could see the name of the planet.    
  
Erszbat, formerly of the Batarian Hegemony.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It took four days to reach Erszbat. The briefing made it clear that the Council's interest in the planet was not public knowledge and should remain that way. That meant _Sophie's Folly_ couldn't cut to the front of the jump queue using Spectre authority, but Captain Pugh could and did bribe his way to the top of the civilian list with some of the Council's funds. In Garrus's opinion, the funds were the most useful thing the Council had given him for the mission. The briefing itself was long on speculation and short on facts.

“This almost feels like a first contact mission,” he complained to Shepard.

“Hopefully not,” she said. “I don't think you're meant to start a war.”

“Incident.”

“War.”

Garrus pushed her shoulder with his knee, and she looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor to wrinkle her nose at him. “Seriously though,” he said. “I think we should both go down armed.”

“Expecting trouble?”

“You know me.”

Shepard smiled, then looked away. “I didn't pack my gun.”

“I did.”

She craned her head back, an unreadable look on her face.

“Just your sidearm. I've been keeping it clean and performing regular maintenance on your hard suit.”

Something in her face tightened. “You said you were okay with retiring.”

“I am.” He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. He'd misstepped, but he didn't know how badly. “But you know me, I do expect the worst. If you needed them, they were going to be ready for you.”

She sighed and leaned her head against their joined hands. “I'm out of practice.”

“It's just for the worst case scenario,” Garrus said. “I know you wanted to stop doing this sort of thing.”

“It's not that.” Shepard frowned. “You need me to watch your back, I'll be there. This isn't some post-traumatic thing. I'm just tired of solving problems with the end of a gun.”

Not too badly then. “Like I said, worst case scenario. With any luck, no one will ever see what a lousy shot you've become.” He spread his mandibles in a grin when she threw him an indignant look. The familiar banter was reassuring. They hadn't discussed her miscarriage after that night in their apartment, but she was more likely to lean on him in the quiet moments, and he knew he was holding her closer than usual as they fell asleep.

“So where is it?”

“Hmm?”

“My gun.”

Garrus nodded his head toward his gun case and Shepard rose from the floor to check it. “You've done this for months without me noticing?” she asked.

“I usually took care of it during your physical therapy sessions. Last time was right before we left to see Wrex.”

Shepard shook her head and hauled the case over to the bed. “Scoot,” she told him. He moved over and she dumped the case in the middle of the bed and settled herself opposite him. She handed him his rifle and started disassembling her pistol. Neither weapon needed the cleaning, but it was a familiar pre-mission ritual. Garrus couldn't help sneaking looks at Shepard as they worked. Her motions with the gun were as sure as ever, and he wondered if he could talk her into going to the range again when all this was over. He missed their friendly competitions.

“Upgraded the mods?” Shepard asked, head bent as she examined the new scope he'd installed.

“Only the best for my girl,” he said.

Her mouth quirked. “I bet you did practice shots with it, too.” He certainly had. As if he'd send her out with untested tech. She glanced up when he didn't respond, and her eyes were full of warm amusement. He leaned forward, careful not to dislodge the gun parts between them, and traced a talon over her cheek, where a mandible would be if she was turian. Her half-smile faded, and she looked down again. “You've been more patient than I would be under the circumstances.”

Garrus had wondered when this would come up. Shepard had never been good at doing nothing. “Not really,” he said, resuming his former position. “You haven't been back on your feet for that long. But if you want to fight about it, I'm sure I can dredge up some of my dad's favorite lines.”

Shepard grimaced. “Your family. Right. Another reason for me to get my shit together.”

“Dad's not as bad as he used to be. Told me to bring you along next time I visited.” His sister was another story, but those problems pre-dated his relationship with Shepard.

“Still,” Shepard said. There was quiet while they put their weapons back together. She let him take her pistol to store away with his rifle again, and flopped back on the bed.

“So what's the plan?” she asked.

“First we have to find the squatters. Best guess is the largest continent in the southern hemisphere. If we're lucky, they'll respond to a hail.”

“If we're not?”

“Then the cook gets to test more meals on me while we wait for scans to pick something up.”

“Go easy on him,” Shepard said. “He's wanted to open a dual chirality restaurant for years, but hasn't had the chance to develop the dextro side of things.”

“Sometimes I think you should have been the detective,” Garrus said. “The way everyone just tells you things.”

“Changing the subject.”

Garrus sighed and joined her on the bed. “The two of us can't force them to leave. If they're hostile to the idea, we'll withdraw and the Council can decide how to proceed. If they're open to it, I'll let you step in. You know better than me what resources will be available to get them off planet.”

“Assuming there really are human colonists down there.” Shepard rolled over and tugged him down to lie beside her. He went with a smile. “With my luck, it'll end up being batarian survivors with a grudge.”

“I think the Council is concerned about more than just rumors.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “You holding out on me?”

“Just been thinking. There's too much that doesn't add up. Giving the krogan a colonized world breaks too many precedents.” Not that Erszbat could really be considered colonized anymore. The batarians' numbers were so low that they had recalled all members of the Hegemony to their homeworld and instituted re-population programs. It wasn't surprising that someone might try to move in, but colonies without government backup usually didn't settle where they knew they'd be picking that big of a fight.

“Good thing they put a crack investigator on it then,” Shepard said. “Oh, are we done?” she asked when he leaned in.

“You've read the briefing. The rest will depend on what we find tomorrow.” He pressed his mouth against her ear and she drew his hand over her stomach and held it. “I need to check the shuttle, but we can do that after dinner.”

“And before?”

He drew his mouth down to the corner of her jaw. “I had a few ideas.”

 

* * *

 

Garrus woke first the next morning, anticipation better than any alarm. Shepard was still curled on her side, her bright hair dark against the pillow in the low light. It was a far cry from the short curls she'd sported when the Normandy finally made it back to the Sol system. Had to be shaved, she'd explained. Necessary, the doctors had said. He'd been surprised by how much the change had bothered him. She was looking more like herself these days, putting on muscle again and filling out the skin that had been distressingly soft and loose in the hospital. And while he wasn't growing impatient, he was glad she'd decided to come with him and do something other than wander New Citadel and avoid Alliance brass.

He checked the time. Early enough that he could beat the cook to breakfast if he went now. He got out of bed quietly; Shepard was always grumpy if she didn't wake up on her own.

Captain Pugh was in the galley, a steaming cup in one hand and a datapad in the other. He nodded a greeting as Garrus entered. “Early riser or avoiding my nephew's cooking?” he asked.

Garrus hesitated before answering. Humans were much more likely than turians to take criticism of their family members as a personal affront. “Uh, mostly the first,” he said. “Nathan's not bad, he just over-seasons a little. Are we still on schedule?” Garrus asked.

“We drop out of FTL in an hour,” Pugh confirmed.

Garrus pulled some cold cuts from the fridge. They weren't his favorite, but they didn't require much prep. “So,” he said casually. “Do you make runs to batarian space often?”

Pugh shook his head. “Never thought it worth the risk that they'd decide the crew was more valuable than the cargo I thought I was delivering. Not so dangerous now, but there's not much of a market anymore.”

No mention of the trade embargoes. That confirmed some suspicions he'd had about their ship. The Council must look the other way in exchange for Pugh providing unofficial transport. “What kind of cargo do you usually carry?”

Pugh gave him a steady look. “Nothing the Council doesn't know about.”

“I'd like to know.” If Pugh moved any of what he'd fought against on Omega, they were going to have problems, Council or not.

Pugh glanced to the left of Garrus's shoulder. “I've got a lot of respect for your wife. Let's not ruin a good working relationship.” His nephew entered, bleary-eyed and yawning. “I'll let you know when we're in orbit,” he said as he left.

Garrus could use his Spectre status to push Pugh to tell him. And Pugh could decide he wasn't worth the hassle and leave him and Shepard stranded on Erszbat. Maybe. If he felt like burning his bridges with the Council. Focus on the mission, Garrus told himself. Follow up on Pugh's smuggling later. He waved his cold cuts at Nathan when the cook started to apologize for not having something ready, and ate while Nathan made a new pot of coffee. Garrus grabbed a cup on his way back to the cabin.

Shepard groaned when he turned the lights on and threw an arm over her eyes. “Dammit, Vakarian. Give a girl some warning.”

“Lights incoming.”

She lifted her elbow to glare. He held out the coffee and she grunted and sat up. “Forgiven,” she mumbled into the mug. He stood by the bed, frowning, and after a few sips, she asked, “What's wrong?”

Garrus shook it off. “Got a reminder of why my dad doesn't like Spectres. It's nothing to worry about.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No. Just ready to get started.” He still didn't know if he wanted to take the Spectre position on permanently, but he wanted to prove he could. “I'm going to go load up the shuttle,” he said. There wasn't much that needed to be put on, but it was better than pacing a hole in the floor.

Shepard joined him after about half an hour, hair still damp from her shower. She checked the medkit and emergency supplies while he re-ran basic diagnostics on the shuttle's systems. Garrus looked up expectantly when the ship's engines switched over from FTL, and she laughed. “You've missed this,” she said.

“You haven't?”

She looked around the shuttle, prepped with military precision, and then at him, eyes bright. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “This part at least. Working together.”

The overhead intercom crackled. “Vakarian? We're entering orbit and we've already got something on the scanners.”

“That was quick,” Shepard said. They finished up with the shuttle and made their way to the cockpit.

“What have you got?” Garrus asked, and Pugh moved to the side so he could see the scanner. Radio activity from the southern continent. The Council's information was pretty good for just rumors.

“We'll be over it in about twenty minutes,” Pugh said.

“Have you hailed them?” Garrus asked.

Pugh looked at the pilot. “Broadcasting a standard greeting. No response yet,” she said.

“All right,” Garrus said. “We'll check it out in the shuttle. Stay in orbit.”

They were suited up and running through the flight checks when Pugh paged them again to say the ship was holding orbit over the source of the radio signals.

“Not going to let me drive?” Shepard asked when they got clearance to leave the hangar bay.

“You never let me drive on your missions,” Garrus said, earning him a mock punch in the shoulder. “I want you on the comms anyway. Better they hear a human voice.”

“Good point.”

Shepard kept up the hails as they descended through the upper layers of the atmosphere. There was heavy cloud cover over the target, and it wasn't till the shuttle broke through that they got a good visual of the area. Shepard drew in a sharp breath. “It looks just like Mindoir,” she said quietly. “So much farmland.” Before Garrus could respond, she looked down at her console. “I'm getting something, hold on.” She adjusted the receiving frequency and an angry voice came over the comms.

“. . . territory of the Batarian Federation. You are not authorized to be in this air space.”

“Federation?” Shepard asked. Garrus shrugged.

“Let me do the talking,” he said. She nodded and opened the outgoing channel. “This is Garrus Vakarian, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. I'm here as a representative of the Citadel Council.”

“This is not Council space,” the angry voice said. “State your business.”

Garrus looked at Shepard. If there were human colonists on Erszbat, telling the batarians would put them in danger. She lifted one hand, palm turned upwards, and nodded.

“We have reason to believe there is an unauthorized colony on this planet,” he said. “Our business is to remove them.”

“The humans? There was a human speaking before. I want to hear it from them.”

Shepard leaned forward before Garrus could stop her. “The colony is unauthorized. They do not, repeat, not, have the support of the Alliance or any human government.”

The comm cut off for a brief moment. “Identify yourself,” the voice demanded when it came back on. Oh no. Garrus reached for the mute, but Shepard was already answering.

“Jane Shepard.”

There was silence on the comm. Garrus could almost feel the shock over the channel. This was going well.

“ _Commander_ Shepard?”

“Retired. I -” she broke off as the connection was cut. “That could have gone better,” she said.

“Much better,” Garrus muttered, more than a little annoyed with her. Before he could say anything else, the shuttle rocked violently to one side. Garrus swore and swerved. “Do you see the guns?” he asked as he wove through the air.

“Not yet,” Shepard said. Another explosion went off directly beneath the shuttle, and the shields went down. Another hit would take them out. More explosions rattled the shuttle as Garrus pulled every half-remembered trick from basic he could while trying desperately to get out of range. Then, as suddenly as they'd started, the guns stopped. A new, older-sounding voice came over the comm.

“This is Gellen Durog. The use of guns was not authorized. The individual responsible has been removed.”

Garrus kept the shuttle on its upward trajectory. He was familiar with batarian tactics. Shepard took the comm again. “I understand my presence is unwelcome,” she said. “But we didn't know you were still here. I promise you, we are only here to get my people off your world.”

Durog didn't respond for a long moment. “I don't believe you, Commander,” he said finally. “But turians have some sense of honor. If Spectre Vakarian gives his word, I will accept it.”

“Yes,” Garrus said. “I vouch for Shepard.” The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. His relationship with Shepard, while never a secret, became well-known shortly after the end of the war. Even the batarians had to be aware of it.

“The humans are to the southwest. The location is being sent,” Durog said. “We don't have the resources to deal with them ourselves. If you remove them, we will consider it an act of good faith by the Council and will be amenable to re-opening relations.”

Shepard gave him a thumbs up as the info came in, and Garrus thanked Durog before closing the commlink. He keyed in their new destination and sent it to _Sophie's Folly_ too, before relaxing in his seat.

“That part I haven't missed,” Shepard said. He gave a small laugh. “Sorry,” she said. “I should have let you handle it.”

“No,” Garrus said. “I should have been ready to deal with that.” It was a stupid mistake. Shepard had even joked about there being batarians on planet yesterday.

“Garrus.” Shepard reached over and put an armored hand over his. “I can see it when you start to beat yourself up, you know. We got confirmation that the colonists are here. The mission's still on track.”

“Only because of Durog. I don't like relying on luck.”

Shepard sighed. “Fine. Get it out of your system. I'll be getting our shields back up.” She got up and went back to the shuttle's mass effect generators, leaving Garrus alone by the controls. After a few minutes of reflection, he acknowledged that there wasn't much he'd have done differently besides keep Shepard off the comm altogether, and since he wouldn't have put their purpose as bluntly as she did they might not have gotten the information. And he should have kept his distance better once the batarians came on the line.

Speaking of which. What had that offer been about? As far as anyone knew, the Hegemony was still running what was left of the Batarian Empire. Its exact state was the source of much speculation, but the Council races were too busy rebuilding their own worlds to spare the resources to find a definitive answer. The Hegemony traditionally came down hard on any challenges to its authority. This new federation might be hoping the Council could provide cover and legitimacy while the old authorities were distracted. Politics. The Council was welcome to them.

The shields came back on, though at just a fraction of their full strength. Shepard rejoined him in the cockpit. Garrus waited for her to tell him it wasn't his fault again, but she surprised him.

“I'm too used to running the mission,” she said. “Your show, your responsibility. Still want me for the hails?”

Something in him relaxed at her words. “Yeah. We know for sure that there are humans here, now. You're still the better choice.” Shepard nodded, and started the hails again when they got within range. The lack of response wasn't concerning until they were close enough to start a landing descent.

“Think Durog sent us on a wild goose chase?” Shepard asked.

Garrus wasn't familiar with the phrase, but he got the gist. “It's possible. Let's get a visual. See if you recognize anything.”

The settlement looked much like the first. A large building sat in the center, ringed by smaller structures that were probably the residential pods. Farmland surrounded the cluster of buildings on all sides, and there was a river to the north. Garrus caught a few glimmers of irrigation canals running through the fields as the shuttle descended.

“Someone's been working the land in the last two years,” Shepard said. “That's this season's crop.” She peered closer at the vidfeed. “It's hard to tell from here, but it looks like it's overdue for a harvest.”

“That's not a good sign,” Garrus said.

Shepard shook her head. “You _always_ get the harvest in. Doesn't matter what else is going on. I don't think the colonists are here anymore.”

“Human?”

“It does look like one of the modified wheat strains.”

That merited a closer look. Garrus brought the shuttle down just beyond the outer ring of buildings, next to the packed dirt road that ran between the fields and down to the river. He let Shepard exit first, just in case she was wrong and there were still colonists around.

“You know what's strange?” she asked, taking in the area. “This isn't very defensible. I'm having a hard time believing the batarians couldn't have run the colonists off.”

“Maybe they did,” Garrus said, even though he could see there were no signs of battle. “Or maybe they were outnumbered. We don't know how many are in Durog's group.” Too many maybes. Too much that wasn't adding up.

They were coming up on the entrance to the settlement. The buildings stood silent as they passed by them, windows empty of movement and doors an unbroken line of red locks. Shepard looked up once or twice, shaking her head as if to clear it each time. “Storm brewing,” she said in response to his look. “The pressure changes only bother me planetside. Never could figure out why.”

The eastern sky was dark. As Garrus watched, the edges of the clouds lit up with lightning. “I'd rather not get caught in that,” he said. “Let's head toward the center building and see what we find.” Shepard nodded, and together they made their way into the settlement.


	3. Chapter 3

It was too quiet. The silence was broken by the occasional cry of some far-off wildlife, but there was none of the background noise that should exist in a farming colony like this. There should be the distant hum of machinery in the fields and the regular shuffle of people going about their day. Instead, there was nothing. It was like Mindoir after the batarians, in those long hours before the Alliance landed to look for survivors.

Shepard tried to shake off the memory. Mindoir had been taken by force and looked it. There were no signs of violence here. It was as if the colonists had simply up and left. 

“Huh.” Garrus stopped and looked at the roof of one of the residential pods. “That's different.”

The roof was covered in solar panels, but the convertor box had been jerry-rigged to connect to a set of antennaes so old that it took Shepard a moment to recognize them.

“You're kidding,” Garrus said, when she told him what they were. “Your people still use tech that old?”

“Not quite so old for us, but we know now they don't have a private backer. No one who wanted a return on their investment would send them out with equipment like that.”

“That would also explain why they're using the batarian structures. I thought it might be camouflage to protect themselves from flyovers.”

“Could be both,” Shepard said. Garrus nodded, and shot a final glance at the antennaes and shook his head.

They found more patched together additions as they continued on. Every house wasn't modified, and those that were were in small clusters of three or four. She mentioned it to Garrus, and he nodded. “I noticed,” he said. “I don't think they're using even half of the buildings. Smaller population than I expected.”

“Smaller than a colonization group should be for a planet like this. I think we need to reconsider why they're here.”

“Think it's a cult?”

Shepard winced, remembering the bloodbath that had been Presrop. “I hope not. Convincing them to leave will be hard enough as is.”

“If they're here at all,” Garrus said, echoing her own growing doubt. The center structure loomed before them. “Let's see what we find in there.”

Unlike the other buildings, its door was not only unlocked, but cracked open. It failed to respond as they approached, and Garrus had to push it until the opening was wide enough to slip through. The lights inside cycled through bursts of brightness and low light, illuminating a large room filled with rows of tables, chairs neatly pushed underneath. The far wall had three doors, all locked.

Shepard pulled up her omnitool at the first door. Garrus, arm half-raised to do the same, gave her a look.

“Really?” he asked.

“I need the practice,” she said. It took a couple of false starts, but she eventually got it unlocked and grinned at him.

“Very nice,” he said. “Want to get the others so I can finish watching the elcor Hamlet production? I want to see if he ever stops whining.”

“Come on,” Shepard said. “I wasn't that slow.”

“Oh, look. There's the curtain for the second act.”

“What happened to your sniper patience?” 

Garrus ignored her jibe and stepped through the door. 

“Who locks a kitchen?” he asked, taking in the industrial ovens and meticulously organized shelves. He poked through the food stores—Shepard had no idea what he thought he'd find—then started opening the ovens and freezers. After a moment, she turned to the nearest cupboard. Plates and bowls. Most of them could have come from an Alliance mess hall, though a few clearly came from more private collections. Were the colonists deserters or just looters? She moved to the next cupboard. Glasses and... Shepard paused, and reached in.

“Find something?” Garrus asked. He looked curiously at what she held. “What's that?”

“A bottle,” Shepard said. “Garrus, there were children here.” She moved past him to the dry goods, and found formula by the coffee beans. She couldn't tell if any was missing.

“There was dust on the appliances,” Garrus said. “And a dead lizard in one of the ovens. Been a while since they've seen use.”

“There should be a food log,” Shepard said, turning the bottle in her hands. “Check by the freezer.” They would have provisioned a bunker. The amount of food left on the shelves didn't necessarily mean anything.

“Last entry was twenty-three days ago.” Garrus crouched a little to read the display. “All additions to the inventory. They must have just gotten a shipment.” He straightened. “Doesn't say who delivered it. Let's check the other rooms.”

The next door opened to a small hallway that led to the showers and toilets. The air in the bathroom was stale, even through the filters of Shepard's helmet. There was no water when Garrus tried one of the showers. Flushing the toilet was equally unsuccessful. Her head throbbed again, and a few seconds later she heard the distant rumble of thunder.

“Damn, that moved fast,” Garrus said. “Even if we can't take off, I'd rather wait the storm out in the shuttle than here.”

Shepard agreed. She didn't want to depend on the colony's power supply during the storm, either. “Let's get this done,” she said.

As Garrus dealt with the last lock, Shepard went back to the outside door to check the sky. The dark clouds still looked a few kilometers away, but they were moving fast. The light had gone queer and the smell of ozone was heavy in the air. She turned back. “We'd better hurry.”

“Can't rush genius,” Garrus muttered.

Shepard bit back the retort that it hadn't been genius when it'd taken her some time. While his words were light, the tone was the one he got when he was lining up a difficult shot. That was promising. Stronger security meant something worth protecting. She hung back, not wanting to distract him.

“Vakarian?”

Garrus cursed. He didn't turn his attention from his omnitool, but he waved his free hand to indicate she should take the call.

“He's busy, Captain. What is it?”

“Got an unmarked ship approaching. They aren't responding to our hails, standard or otherwise.”

“What do you mean, 'otherwise?'”

There was another, closer, roll of thunder, and the comm crackled for a moment, cutting off part of Pugh's response.

“--with more specialized trade. Courtesy among fellow businessmen.”

Thieves Code, Shepard translated. “You think they're hostile?”

“I'm not waiting to find out. Unless you're taking off right now, we're going to have to come back for you.”

The hell they were. Shepard opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that plan, when several things happened in quick succession. The storm announced its arrival with a deafening crack of thunder, Garrus got the last door open, and Shepard was thrown from her feet and into a table.

She blinked up at the ceiling in a daze, distantly aware that she should be feeling pain. There was a deep thumping in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She called for Garrus, her voice sounding strangely muted, and got no response. A few breaths more, and her brain started to catch up. An explosion. Loss of hearing. Her own heartbeat. 

And—Garrus had been at the center of the blast.

She rolled to her side and her heart lurched. Garrus was a pile of unmoving blue armor. She tried to stand and couldn't, balance shot to hell. She crawled across the floor instead, her breath coming fast and shallow by the time she reached him. The angle of his leg was all wrong under him, but there was no pool of blood, and that was the only thing that kept her hands steady as she pried open the panel over his bio data.

Heartbeat high, but there. Breathing erratic, but there.

Shepard bent her head to his torso. "Goddammit, Garrus. We said we weren't going to do this to each other anymore."

"Still owed you one," he said weakly, and if she hadn't been so relieved, she would have hit him for not answering sooner.

"I think your leg is broken," she said.

"I know."

"And we lost our ship."

"I was hoping I'd misheard that." Garrus leveraged himself into a sitting position with her help, hissing in pain.

"The storm's here, but I'd feel better if we were back at the shuttle."

"Yeah." Garrus tried moving his hurt leg and grunted. "Give me a minute. Check the room. See what was so important that they set it to blow."

Shepard got his rifle off his back first and put it in his hands before checking her pistol. "Just in case," she said, and he laughed despite the pain. Her balance still felt off, but she managed to get to her feet and walk in an almost straight line to the doorway.

The room had been another storage area. The metal shelves on the walls were twisted and warped, and the floor was littered with bits of machinery and blackened glass. The latter crunched under her feet as she poked through the debris, looking for anything salvageable. She found nothing. No hard drives, no OSDs, no handy beacons to shove the knowledge into her head whether she wanted it there or not. Shepard activated her helmet cam and made a slow scan of the room, then used her omnitool to take a series of closer still shots. Maybe Garrus would see something she hadn't.

His breathing was deeper when she returned, and for a second she was afraid he'd fallen unconscious.

"Still with me, Garrus?"

"Always," he said, though he sounded even more strained than before. "Just trying some meditation exercises. Find anything?"

Shepard shook her head. "I got pictures. They can keep you occupied while we wait for Pugh to come back." She crouched down next to him while he called Pugh several names that didn't translate, and pulled his arm over her shoulder. "Ready?"

Whatever the Crucible had done to the Reapers had also wrecked havoc on almost all of the cybernetics Cerberus installed in her body. Shepard found herself missing them now as she hoisted Garrus up. A turian in full body armor was not for the weak of limb. Her back hurt under the pressure of his arm; the explosion must have bruised it.

They only managed a few steps before his leg gave out, and he stumbled, pulling her down with him. They both cursed, and Garrus withdrew his arm. “I'm not going to be able to walk back out,” he said.

“I don't think I could drag you, even if we rigged up a stretcher.” Shepard sat down beside him. “Guess we're waiting here.”

“No. Go get the shuttle. There's enough clearance in front of the building for you to land.”

“We can't leave till Pugh gets back. I'd rather not split up, especially when you can't move.”

Garrus shook his head. “I know, it's just... something's telling me we shouldn't stay here. I know it sounds crazy, but I got feelings like this on Omega. I'd have a spot scouted out to take out a merc, nothing looked wrong, but when I got close my gut said to back off and wait. Compromised, every time.”

She'd been having that feeling since they'd landed. “Which is why I'm not leaving you here with no one to watch your back.”

Garrus took a deep breath, then another. “Do I have to pull rank on this?”

Shepard had never hated his helmet more than at that moment. His voice was unreadable, but she could always pick up something from his face. “Are you?” she asked.

“I'd rather not have to.”

She looked away. “All right,” she said, after a tense moment. He reached over and pulled her in till their helmets touched. “Yes, all right,” she repeated. “Your gut and I are going to have a talk later.” He laughed and let go, settling back against a table as she stood.

Shepard stepped outside and into zero visibility. She oriented herself with her visor's compass, and started forward. The rain fell in heavy sheets, hammering against the metal of her hardsuit and obscuring her vision. The wind was so strong the rain was almost horizontal, and Shepard had to lean into it hard to keep from being blown over. She paused more than once in the shelter of a house to rest, acutely aware that she'd already been gone more than twice as long as the trip in had taken. The storm had filled her comm with static before she reached the first ring of houses, which meant she'd been cut off from Garrus for far too long. She couldn't risk going faster though, not with the mud threatening her footing and already precarious balance.

Finally, the shape of the shuttle broke through the rain. She almost fell as she passed through the door, slow to compensate for the loss of the wind pressing against her. The hum of the mass effect generators as she restarted the shuttle was reassuring, and the sense that something was off eased a little for the first time since landing. She tried Garrus again on the shuttle's comm, but the storm was still interfering. 

The flight to the center building took mere minutes. Shepard landed as close as she could to the entrance and hopped out.

“Garrus?” she called.

The flickering lights overhead threw wavering shadows about the room. The table where she'd left Garrus stood by itself. Her foot hit something and she looked down. Garrus's rifle lay on the floor in front of her, thermal clip unspent. Garrus himself was gone.


End file.
